


Live By The Light In Your Eyes

by JustJasper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Caregiving, Discrimination, Domestic, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: the times Morgan tried to ask Reid to marry him, and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live By The Light In Your Eyes

" **I promise to keep you happy, safe, and in love - for as long as my heart wakes; and as much as your soul takes." - Prashant Chopra**

The first time, they were both warm and naked in the Sunday morning light shining through the window of Morgan's bedroom, dozing in the glow of sunlight and orgasm. Reid huffed a little breath and pushed himself up from amongst the mess of twisted sheets and crooked pillows, lifted his arms up high and stretched luxuriously, reminding Morgan of a cat as his spine clicked several times in quick succession.

"Don't get up yet, baby," he murmured, running a hand along the subtle press of vertebrae against his lover's skin. Clearly the prompting required was minimal, because Reid flopped down again into the bedding, and then moved to drape himself over Morgan's chest. He gave a contented hum as the man lifted his hand to brush his hair away from his face, smoothing it over his head.

"I love this," Reid breathed in a happy sigh. "Sleeping in with you, the day after a long case."

"I love it too," he agreed, fingertips brushing along the man's jaw and marvelling as Reid lifted his chin up into the contact. "You look so beautiful like this, Spencer."

Reid closed his eyes and smiled, a long way from the reactions he'd had at the start of their relationship four years previously; he used to blush and look confused, clearly perplexed at the idea that Morgan found him beautiful. The older lifted the man's hand and kissed the palm, then each pad of his long fingers, then the palm again and the heel, the wrist, covering it as Reid pushed his hand along Morgan's stubbly jaw.

"You know that, right?" Morgan prompted softly. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

"I know that's what I am to you," he said honestly, moving so he could kiss the corner of the man's mouth. "But beauty is subjective. And I feel beautiful because you make me feel so happy."

"Not completely true," Morgan gave a breathy laugh, kissing the man's soft swollen lips, "You're beautiful because you're you. Happy or sad, or angry, or sleeping. I find you-" Another kiss that lingered, bodies pushing against each other in the warmth of their nest, "-stunning."

"So are you, Derek," Reid breathed. "Everything about you."

"I love you, baby." He kissed him more firmly, rolling them gently so Reid was resting in the soft linen as Morgan moved between his legs, his motive purely one of pressing as much of their flesh together as possible, so alive in each other's warmth. One forearm supported him, his hand cradling the man's head as the other brushed his jaw, thumb catching on his bottom lip. Reid's hands were at a shoulder blade and his hip, legs hooked over his lover's as he arched up into the contact.

In a perfect world, they'd spend every morning together like they did on lazy days. Morgan knew their lives could never be that easy, but it didn't stop him relishing the simplicity of those moments. It didn't stop a question forming quickly in his mind.

"Spencer," he murmured, nuzzling his jaw before he pulled back to look at his face, the man's eyes lidded and calm in their embrace, "I've got a question."

Reid's eyebrow arched slightly and a second later, the harsh sound of his work ringtone cut through their comfortable quiet.

"Ugh," he sounded in annoyance, both of them disengaging from each other's hold. "Reid," he answered as Morgan sat up and rolled his shoulders, the moment gone. "Okay, we'll be in soon." Sighing, he closed the phone and Morgan, who had gotten up from the bed, watched as he smiled and shrugged. "He wouldn't call us in this soon if it wasn't an emergency."

"I know. Time for a quick shower?"

"Yes." Reid got up too. "Can't go into work smelling of sex. What was your question, anyway?"

"What?" Morgan said offhand, but he felt his stomach jolt. He couldn't ask him now. "Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go out for a meal tonight. Moot point now, it'll be takeout in a police station, I bet."

Reid gave an empathetic smile as he padded through to the bathroom, Morgan following him and exhaling in disappointment and relief.

\---

He'd bought a ring. He felt ridiculous, but he'd bought a ring. Technically he'd brought two identical ones, because while for some reason his mind had latched onto the idea of rings, he didn't want to offer one to Reid in the traditional sense of a woman having an engagement ring and a man not; he liked to think their relationship was not quite so conformist to gender roles as that. They were simple, modest silver bands, in a small black box, which had felt like a lead weight in Morgan's pocket all day.

Reid had been excited about the new fusion restaurant they'd heard about, and Morgan had said they'd go when they next had an evening off. It had finally happened, and he'd decided he was going to ask him. He'd pictured it in his mind all day, imagined taking the box out and sliding it across the table top as Reid talked; his lover would do a double-take and stop mid-sentence, confused and intrigued. Morgan would be quiet and wait for Reid to take the initiative and open the box; he'd see the rings and understand. There might be words to clarify, and Reid would say yes in a quiet, intimate way, their exchange going unnoticed in the crowded restaurant.

It went nothing like he hoped, of course. He should have clocked something was amiss when he noticed the head waiter's lingering looks on them, and taking longer to seat them than people who had come in after them. Then their waitress had been squeaky and stressed-looking, and had to have their orders repeated because she'd written down something completely different to what they'd said. Morgan was determined to ignore it, concentrating on trying to salvage the evening for his plan.

When Reid reached across the table and took his hand, linking their fingers together, Morgan couldn't help but relax a little.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Morgan shrugged, smiling fondly at him.

"What looks good?" Reid asked, flipping open the menu. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"There's lots of white people," Morgan said, glancing distractedly over to what they could see of the kitchen. Reid raised an eyebrow at him. "You know what I mean; fusion food by white people is usually not worth the effort, it's better to go get something authentic."

"I know what you mean," Reid nodded, stroking his thumb over Morgan's knuckles and smiling affectionately at him. "If it's bad, we just won't come again."

Morgan had to wonder if Reid had any idea what he was planning, he was a profiler after all and might have picked up on his unease. As if on queue, Reid lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"Relax, Derek," he said. "We have a night without having to worry about cases. Food, and then later-"

"Excuse me," it was their meek-looking waitress, who was red in the face and couldn't quite meet their eyes, "the manager requests that you tone down your behaviour."

"What?" Morgan turned his head, confused. "We're holding hands."

"I-"

"We'd like to see the manager," Reid said, deliberately linking his fingers through Morgan's fingers. "Please tell them to come speak with us themselves if they have a problem."

"Is there a problem here?" the manager who had given them a dirty look early said when he appeared by their table.

"We were gonna ask you the same thing," Morgan said.

"This is a family restaurant, and we reserve the right to ask our guests to adhere to conduct rules that is in place so no other guests are made uncomfortable."

It was eight at night and there wasn't a child in the restaurant, and Morgan could feel the anger in him rising. "We're holding hands. What century are you from where that shocks you?"

"Sir," the manager said with apparently as much insincerity as he could muster, "if you're going to be _aggressive,_ I will ask you to leave."

"You can't do that." Morgan felt like getting aggressive then, but kept his cool.

"I can, and if you refuse I will call the police."

"Good," Reid cut in, "then you can explain to them why you're threatening to refuse service to us based on us being a same-gender couple, which is illegal under DC law."

"Are you a lawyer?" The head waiter all but sneered.

"No, we're FBI agents," Reid said curtly, and they both rose from their seats at the same time. "You've no idea the legal hell we could rain down on you."

"Spencer," Morgan said in what he hoped was a calm voice, knowing that Reid's brain would be quickly preparing for delivering a verbal thrashing. The evening had soured so much, he just wanted to leave.

"Let's get out of here," Reid said instead, still looking defiantly at the manager, but Morgan could see the deliberate but subtle way his body language changed as he disengaged from his intent to sound off. They grabbed their coats, and with as much dignity as they could muster, walked out of the restaurant clutching hands.

They didn't speak until they were driving away, streetlights fracturing through the car windows, and Morgan banged his hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

"I wasn't expecting that," Reid said in a rather quiet voice, shrugging with a laugh that had a resignation to it.

"You'd think we could go out without getting harassed in DC, jeez," Morgan muttered darkly.

"Let's go somewhere we know we're not going to have problems," Reid sighed. "Thai?"

"Sure, baby," Morgan said, making the appropriate turn, reached over to give Reid's hand a reassuring squeeze, and he knew his courage had gone for what he'd planned to do.

\---

Morgan had started to think creatively about asking Reid to marry him. His boyfriend loved puzzles, he lived to work his brain through them, so he started wondering if he could put the question to Reid in a way he'd have to solve it to know what he was being asked. It couldn't be a crossword; Reid was much too quick for that, and it would take him no effort at all. Morgan usually relied on Reid to do anything that was advanced in the puzzle-solving field, but he still found himself finding spare moment to research ciphers and codes.

After the brain ache that had bought him, he took a step back; it didn't have to be that complicated, if he really worked on it. A verbal puzzle, a riddle, could be just as much a challenge. But the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became with the envisioned outcome; he wanted something perfect, and this wasn't it.

He'd ruled out a public proposal as soon as the idea of proposing had become a solid thing. He knew Reid wouldn't appreciate being put in a situation where his decision was a public one, and the idea of people he cared about witnessing a potential "no" from Reid was a devastating thought.

He wasn't entirely sure that Reid would say yes to a proposal, anyway. He knew Reid loved him, knew Reid wanted to be with him, but they'd never talked about marriage as something they were aiming for. The man might not see the point of an old, archaic tradition when they were already happy and living together.

He wanted it, though. He wanted to call Reid his husband, to have their relationship recognised in law. He wanted to invite the people they loved to celebrate; he wanted to make that declaration. But he didn't want Reid to agree to such a thing just to please him; everything in their relationship was equal, and he couldn't bear the thought of something as significant as this not being a mutual desire. 

\---

"Agent down!" the voice called over the radio. "We've got an agent down!"

Morgan knew it was Reid, knew it in his bones. His brain could comprehend that, but nothing else. He didn't remember what happened next, only knew that whatever he'd done, whatever automatic action he'd followed through with, he had done so in a world without Reid in it. Hotch kept trying to find out who had fallen, barking demands into the radio as Morgan drove, but Morgan kept his eyes steady. He had to know for sure, had to see. Without seeing, it could never be final; he'd forever dance with the man's ghost in his head.

He should have asked him to marry him.

Now he'd never be able to, and Reid had died not knowing that was what he wanted. He had died without knowing the full content of Morgan's heart, there had been things unspoken between them. Morgan would have to live knowing that.

When they reached the scene, Spencer Reid was sat in the back of an ambulance, having butterfly stitches put over a cut on his forehead and holding a kevlar vest riddled with at least six bullets. Morgan bit back a whine in the back of his throat, frozen to the spot some distance away. With a glance back Hotch left him, not calling for him to follow.

When the paramedic was finished patching Reid up the man looked around, finally catching sight of Morgan. Without looking away he handed his kevlar to Hotch, who had come to stand nearby, and said something to him. Hotch looked back towards Morgan briefly, and nodded. Reid made his way over, stepping into an alley a few feet away. Morgan found his feet to follow, and finally in the relative seclusion, reached for him.

"Thought you'd-" he said thickly, putting his hands either side of Reid's face.

"I'm okay."

"You got shot," Morgan managed, letting a hand fall to Reid's chest, over his heart.

"Yeah," Reid said, raise his hand to Morgan's neck. "Hit my head on the way down, too."

Morgan nodded, looking at the angry cut on his lover's head.

"Thought you were dead," he said, throat tight.

"I'm not," Reid assured, voice soft. "I'm okay." He pulled Morgan close and kissed him, and Morgan let him, leaning into it. He thought he'd lost him, and here he stood, heart beating under his hand. He had to ask.

"Spencer," he said, pulling away. He had to ask now, had to let Reid know what he was thinking.

"Mm?"

But in the heat of the moment, Derek didn't know if it was fair to ask. He still wasn't sure Reid was interested in getting married at all, and to ambush him in this moment didn't seem right.

"I love you," Morgan said instead, and renewed their kiss. It was enough to know the man was safe and alive, that he could still hold him and feel his heart beat. Everything else couldn't compare to holding him in his arms.

\---

The hotel shower was old and had seen better decades, but it was large enough for both of them to stand in it. They were fully clothed and absolutely caked in mud after chasing an unsub into a field during rain along with JJ and wrestling him in the mud to subdue him. The three of them had looked a state afterwards, absolutely covered in mud except for the clear space when they took off their kevlar.

Morgan watched as Reid unbuttoned his shirt, noticing the man shuddering every so often, and he was pretty sure it was because large parts of his long hair were caked in drying mud, and he found it very unpleasant. He took Reid by the arms and turned them, guiding his lover directly under the spray of warm water.

"Close your eyes," he said as Reid pulled his shirt off his chest. "Let's start at the top and work down, hey?"

"This is gross," Reid spluttered as water ran down his face, clearing away some of the mud.

"Gross, huh?"

"Yes."

"At least it's just mud," Morgan commented as he ran his fingers through Reid's hair, carefully dislodging clumps of mud as they crumbled away under the spray of the shower. "Hopefully, anyway."

Reid made a displeasured sound, unbuckling his belt and pushing his slacks away from his hips, reaching out one arm to grab Morgan for support as he wriggled out of them and then his underwear. He tilted his head back under the shower, letting Morgan comb through his hair again as his sodden clothes squelched underfoot.

"I think that's the worst of it," Morgan said, and Reid edged out of the direct spray and blinked water droplets off his eyelashes.

"Thanks."

"You're still covered in the stuff, baby," he said, pulling his dirty t-shirt off over his head and going for his own belt.

"You, too." Reid squeezed a liberal amount of shampoo into his hand, rubbed it between two once he'd put the bottle down and then began to put it into his hair. The lather was a pale brown from the mud still in his hair, and Morgan watched with a fascination that had never dulled as his lover massaged the shampoo through his long locks and into his scalp, watched his leanly muscled arms work.

They switched places so Morgan could go under the spray of water, closed his eyes and used his fingertips to scrub at the mud caked on his head. As long as he got most of it, he knew his lover would help with any bits he'd missed, and he would for the other man. It was much easier with his short hair, but he even had mud in his beard that he had to tease out.

When he opened his eyes, Reid's own were lingering on him, raking over his body. They were used to each other looking, allowing it and enjoying being under the other's gaze. When Reid realised Morgan had noticed him looking, he just smiled, closed the distance between them, wrapped two soapy hands around his waist and up his back, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

"Feeling better already?" Morgan asked ask they pulled away slightly, and turned so Reid could be under the shower once again.

"A lot."

"I haven't been this covered in mud since my football days."

From under the shower, Reid peeped one eye open, settling it on Morgan. "You okay?" he asked, and Morgan knew why he did; those times had been all wrapped up in abuse.

"I'm fine," he said honestly. He hadn't been thinking about that, only the vaguest memories of being soaked and mud-covered.

Reid ran his hair under the shower for a long time until the water ran clear, as Morgan continued to rid himself of mud, dragging a washcloth over his arms and neck and face. After Reid put conditioner on his hair, they passed a scrubbing brush between them, scrubbing their nails to rid them of any trapped dirt. When Reid tilted his head back to rinse for the last time, Morgan couldn't help leaning forward to kiss along exposed flesh of his neck, lingering at the man's adam's apple. Grinning, Reid spared one hand from running through his hair to cradle Morgan's head, encouraging the contact. The smell of the coconut conditioner was heady and inviting, and he thought briefly about how he'd be able to bury his face in those curls later when they crawled into bed together.

"Washcloth?" Reid prompted, though he did nothing to put distance between them, only pushed his jaw along Morgan's and hummed contently. Morgan handed over the cloth and Reid wiped his face, emerging from behind the steaming cloth with a satisfied exhale. "All clean?"

"Just about," Morgan said, look over him. "Just a little spot you missed." He took the cloth from Reid, adjusting it in his hand and lifted it to Reid's ear, wiping delicately around the shell where a little bit of mud had gone unnoticed. "There we go," Morgan murmured, dropping the cloth to the shower floor with their clothes, and running a hand through the man's hair, still being soaked by the shower.

"Will you marry me, Derek?" Spencer asked softly, fingers splayed across the back of his head, the other at the dip at the small of his back.

"What?" Morgan managed, stunned.

"Will you marry me?" he repeated in the same soft voice, and he blinked, shaking off water droplets from his eyelashes again.

"Of course I will," Derek said, wrapping his arms around Spencer. "Yes."

Reid smiled and pulled Morgan in for another kiss, who went with the motion and kissed back passionately under the torrent of the shower.

"I wanted to ask you," he admitted in a breath. "Didn't know if you wanted it."

"Marriage is an archaic tradition," Reid supplied, hands wandering idly over Morgan's body, exploratory and cleansing. "But I want to marry you. We can discuss the place of marriage in modern society another time."

Morgan grinned, because he knew the man was completely serious and he loved him for it. "Sure thing," he murmured, kissing his new fiancé for several long moments. When he pulled back he lifted both his hands to gently push the man's long wet hair back, away from his face. "I'm so happy you're gonna be my husband," he told him.

Reid hummed contently, looking at him with such softness. "And I can't wait for you to be my husband, too."

" **Marriage is not a ritual or an end. It is a long, intricate, intimate dance together and nothing matters more than your own sense of balance and your choice of partner." - Amy Bloom**


End file.
